“Hey Elle..”
Fairrin’s voice trailed out, resounding softly throughout the inner courtyard. Dressed in the normal ritual garb, he sat in front of the ash grey cross once more with his son behind him. A little taller, a little darker and with slightly brighter eyes, Ryke had grown yet another year older. His frame more like his father’s with hands looking no different, the boy had changed more in the past year than almost every other year combined; his brown hair now long and tied back.
With a sigh, Fairrin dusted off the cross with his hands and looked up at the crown of the Aurum Tree, his eyes reflecting the light of the metallic leaves above. Sometimes he felt like he saw her, dancing amidst the leaves with just the brightest smile on her face, beckoning him closer. He was always brought back to reality by Ryke, be it literally or figuratively, but he found it harder and harder to leave that fantasy behind.
Without knowing what his father was going through, Ryke stood silently, thinking back on the past year. Fairrin hadn’t lied or beat around the bush, but taught him how to truly make something in the forge. From the basics of separating the slag from ore, to making and melting moulds, to tempering the metal after and making sure it kept an edge. He-
“Ryke.”
With a quick jolt, Ryke’s gaze snapped down towards his father, his thoughts abruptly ending when his father glanced up at him..
“Yes, dad?”
“Why are you here?”
“Because it’s my birthday..”
Ryke watched as Fairrin chuckled quietly, dusting off the cross again with his hands. An invisible weight seemed to have been lifted off the man’s shoulders and his posture straightened slightly. Ryke would even swear he saw a few of the man’s grey hairs regain their colour within moments but after a quick blink he lost sight of them, unable to tell.
“Sleep well, get some rest, tomorrow is a big day.” Fairrin remarked quietly, standing up and shaking the dirt off of himself with a stretch. “You’ve been badgering me about the Centurion Candidates all year, so don’t embarrass me now, eh?”
With beaming eyes, Ryke nodded fervently towards his father while the man walked back inside the house, leaving the boy alone in the inner courtyard. His eyes glanced all the way back over to the cross before he resumed his father’s position, sitting there cross legged.
The Aurum Tree hung over the boy, its shining canopy lending itself to the moonlight to cascade him in a brilliant golden colour. The branches swayed amidst the wind, a strange rhythm forming with Ryke’s breathing as he sat there silently, his presence finding itself attuned to the surroundings.
Fairrin only came to the courtyard once a year, on Ryke’s birthday. The boy himself, however, found himself coming here often over the year. Be it to calm himself down, to think about the future, or even just to enjoy the movements of the tree. It became his place of peace. The last bastion of serenity against his anxiety. Closing his eyes, Ryke allowed himself to sink into this feeling of calm.
And he fell asleep.
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“Three things.”
Fairrin walked along the streets of Outer Jekan, his hand placed firmly upon Ryke’s shoulder as he directed them through the bustling crowd. Doing his best to avoid bumping into anyone whilst still listening, Ryke nodded quickly.
“People are meant to be relied on. Life is harder alone.”
Whilst questioning this advice, mostly because Fairrin was one of the most independent, lonely people he knew, Ryke just committed it to memory. His father proved to be an exception to many things.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“Secondly. Don’t be afraid to make enemies. Rivals can push you forward.”
“Doesn’t that contradict-”
“Thirdly,” Fairrin growled out, “A life is sacred. Taking one is a sin, no matter the reason. Act as needed, but do not be proud of it.”
Still reeling about the sudden statement of life and death, Ryke was pushed into the Ludus without much fanfare. As he turned around to see his father, he saw Fairrin smile and wave at him. The boy could swear he had never seen such a gentle expression on the man.
“No matter what happens, I’m proud of you.”
An overwhelmingly bad feeling suddenly overtook him as Ryke saw the doors to the Ludus closing, as if being trapped in the maws of an absurd beast. His eyes locked onto his father’s figure, desperate for something, anything, to explain the feeling.
“I love you, son. I’ll see you at home.
Even as the doors finally shut, Fairrin was still standing there, smiling.
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Ryke moved along with the crowd of teenagers within the Ludus. His chest felt tight as he was less than gently pushed forward, his eyes staring listlessly in front of him.The feeling confused him, but the feeling of abrupt loss was incredibly clear in his heart. It remained even after the crowd eventually stopped, which forced Ryke to pay attention.
The massive walls of the Ludus towered over the group of teens, the marble pillars holding up what must be thousands of pounds of stone above their heads. A quick look showed the young boy exactly what kind of place this was- bloody. The fantasies of this place shattered as his golden eyes took in all they could.
Floors of white stone, covered by a thick layer of ash coloured sand. Splattered with blood long dry, the main hall had several training figures in each corner, as well as small marked out spaces where Ryke assumed people would train their bodies. Three hallways lead out of the main hall, each taking one of the three walls in view. Some walls had wooden tables of water or rations resting against them, whilst the others had blood stained weaponry in secure wooden cabinets.
As his eyes finally wandered to the middle of the room, Ryke froze as he noticed another pair of eyes staring into his. A familiar pressure descended upon him for a moment, forcing all of the boy's thoughts to the side. The sound of his bones shattering even rang within his ears. The omnipotent weight only left him when the eyes stopped looking at him.
Soaked in sweat, Ryke did his best to keep looking at the figure standing in the middle of the room next to a bowl on an altar. They were rather tall, rather lean, and sported the desert's typical tan skin, black hair and brown eyes. The only outstanding features were the man’s vaguely seen muscles and the scar running down the side of his face, leaving what seemed like a small hole in the man’s cheek. The boy could even see the man’s breath faintly escaping from it, like steam.
“Listen up!” The man bellowed, slamming the base of his spear into the floor, causing the sand to jump up briefly. “The name is Sigmar. I’m the Lanista who will be conducting your affinity tests.”
Hushed whispers broke out amidst the crowd, just to suddenly be silenced by another slam of Sigmar’s spear; his expression particularly unkind as he stared into the crowd below. He beckoned one of the closest teens up onto the altar and took out a small knife.
“Cut your finger. The more blood needed to verify your affinity, the weaker it is.”
Still with some inklings of fear, the young boy nicked his finger with the knife. The first drop fell into the bowl. Then another. When the bowl had five small drops of blood, it burst into a short bout of flame. The candidate took a few steps back, startled, when Sigmar’s heavy hand fell on his shoulder to keep him in place.
“Orange fire affinity. Next!”
Another candidate went up, followed by a third, a fourth, a dozen more, and then silence. Ryke stopped paying attention after about the sixth, but looked back up when he saw Lycus standing above the altar. Smiling, he wished his friend the best of luck internally as he tried his best to get a good view.
Lycus stepped forward, shaking like a leaf as he took the knife over from Sigmar. A light cut of his finger, and drops of blood began to fall into the bowl. After the third, the older warrior narrowed his eyes, and what sounded like thunder shot out from the bowl.
“Yellow thunder affinity. Next!
Not looking to be outdone, Ryke quickly clambered through the crowd in an attempt to go next. Seeing his friend get such a good result motivated him, and his competitive spirit fought against the sinking feeling he had since entering the Ludus. The smile he saw on Lycus’ face as they passed pushed him to do his best too, whatever that meant here.
Eagerly taking the knife from Sigmar and noticing the lack of any blood on the blade, Ryke quickly nicked his finger to allow a single drop of blood to fall into the, also empty, altar. Even before the drop hit the surface of the bowl, a thick smell of petrichor filled the main hall. When the blood touched the altar, a hazy mist quickly spread out and hid the entire room within its depths.
Feeling as if he was right at home, Ryke took a deep breath and let the smell linger in his senses. Only a few moments later was the mist dispersed by a loud shout, the scent of petrichor disappearing with it.
Silence lingered amidst the crowd of teens. Some were looking around for the mist, some still tried to catch the smell, while others looked up at the altar and the two standing upon it with confusion in their eyes. There had been other eye catching tests, including one that briefly filled the room with blinding light, but that one still got Blue grade.
Ryke though..
“Violet water affinity. Next!”